


The Interest Around Similar Feelings

by thanatopis



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ja'far has never felt anything sexual for anyone in his whole life. He thinks of the lack of sexual drive as a gift. So it's kind of funny when he meets Sinbad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interest Around Similar Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic here. I can't get over how easy and fun it is for me to write these two in modern setting. I'm having a blast.

Sex—the action itself—is something Ja’far has always looked at with apathetic indifference. As a child, he learned the mechanics of the act—knew the importance of it and the why’s, but as a teen Ja’far wondered why he didn’t feel the urgent need to _rut_ desperately on something or someone to get off. 

Unlike many of his peers, Ja’far felt none of that need. None of that embarrassing and clumsy desire that came hand-in-hand with adolescence and for the first time, Ja’far appreciated the strangeness he’d always felt about himself. 

Asexual had been what Ja’far labeled himself, simply just to have a _name_ for it—definition and all—and it made him feel better knowing it. Asexual had been what Ja’far was throughout the majority of high school and college, spouting the word into the air whenever people were annoyingly insistent and inquiring of why he didn’t already have a _pretty girl_ on his arm making him lunches or adoringly doting on him…you know, the whole “normal” shebang.

Proudly, Ja’far somehow resisted the urge to be out rightly cruel and nasty to the few idiots that questioned his asexuality in the manner of Ja’far having been damaged as a child in some fashion or form. 

Ja’far took a sick kind of joy in telling each of them that, actually _no_ , he hadn’t been sexually assaulted—or whatever the fuck deductions they’d always come up with—as a kid. That in fact, Ja’far was an only child from a high-middle class family in the Chicago suburbs. His parents on the other hand were _too_ normal if you asked Ja’far. It’s why he had so many hang ups about why he’d turned out so fucking _different_.

The questions and the answers seemed like a cycle that would forever repeat in its ignorance. Ja’far didn’t mind the possibility of spending the rest of his life alone—in truth the prospect seemed more and more ideal whenever Ja’far took the time and thought about what was actually out there. He’d thought the universe had _spared_ him.

Funny, the way fate always had a wrench to throw into the metaphorical chain that is life.

Ja’far met Sinbad in the worst way possible—on a Monday morning already 15 minutes late for his first lecture of the spring semester. 

Ja’far wasn’t proud of how he acted sometimes, especially during rush hour traffic, or the highly unfortunate predicament of finding yourself behind an incredibly slow moving person, or when long haired, slutty pony tail wearing sleaze bags took their sweet fucking time ordering a drink under the pretense of trying to get the barista’s number.

The line was already fucking long when Ja’far walked in and steadily growing as dickhead extraordinaire put on the charm—put it on _heavily_ and Ja’far more than once cringed, glaring daggers at the back of the unsuspecting man.

 _This is ridiculous_ Ja’far thought, looking around to see if anyone else was as pissed as he was about this idiot holding up the line.

The flustered giggling of the red-haired barista had been Ja’far’s breaking point.

He’d tried, really he had…

It was just his luck that the guy he ended up cussing out and threatening bodily harm to happened to be his business marketing professor later in that same day. 

When Ja’far walked in and saw the man—his purple dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his hair, absolutely ridiculous in its length, thrown stylishly over his shoulder—Ja’far felt like the universe’s cosmic punching bag. If the instant recognition and widening of the man’s strange golden eyes said _anything_ , it was that he felt the exact same way.

…

“You know, I don’t think I quite believe that.” Sinbad said, his index finger and thumb stroking along his chin thoughtfully.

Becoming friends with Sin had been highly unexpected, but startlingly simple in its simplicity. Sinbad was dangerously charismatic, clever and witty in ways that had pleasantly surprised Ja’far, and more knowledgeable about things and his surroundings than people actually gave him credit for, including Ja’far.

Ja’far furrowed his brow at the response, taking a slow sip from his drink. 

What was so difficult to understand about Ja’far being asexual? 

Ja’far was more than shocked at how frantic his brain was over Sinbad’s response. Why the fuck did he care anyway?

The alcohol was getting to his head, making the corners of his vision blur and Ja’far took another sip, just to shut up all the rattling in his brain.

Ja’far scoffed, “Why’s that so hard to fucking believe?” His words only slurred slightly as he looked up at Sin through the fringe of his disheveled bangs. His face flushed as Ja’far started to get defensive.

“Some people just don’t crave sex or want it—get the fuck over it!—Shesh.” Ja’far tipped his head back, finishing his forth shot of the night. 

Ja’far really didn’t drink, saved it for special occasions like passing his trigonometry final, but Sinbad was a bad influence and Ja’far, strange enough, found that he didn’t mind.

Sinbad chuckled, head tilting as he watched Ja’far fondly. 

He shook his head. 

“Not for those reasons,” Sinbad downed the rest of his shot in a quick gulp, cringing at the burn down his throat. 

The action was slightly odd to Ja’far for some reason. There was a subtle tense in Sin’s shoulders, it looked so out of place that Ja’far found himself staring much longer than he planned to. He almost asked what was wrong before Sin turned to him; his eyes (still so strange) were bright and sultry and for a moment, Ja’far caught a glimpse of the infamous man Sinbad was rumored to be in bed.

Unbidden images of Ja’far being solidly shoved up against his bedroom wall, being kissed and touched in hot and inviting ways made his breathe catch. Ja’far saw Sin—his hair down, cascading elegantly down the curve of his back as Ja’far followed it with needy, greedy hands. Saw Sin lift him up with startling ease, prompting his legs to wrap around his slender waist, to grind his cock insistently against Sin’s…

Ja’far gasped.

“I don’t believe it because when someone looks at me like how you’re looking at me now—” Sin swallowed, his eyes lidding. “—like how I’ve seen you look at me before, it makes me think that you want me—that you want me just as much as I want _you_.”

To say Ja’far was stunned into silence would have very much been an understatement. His pale eyes were wide as they stared up at Sinbad with astonishment, the inside of his mouth paper dry. 

Ja’far should have been furious—he should have told Sinbad to go fuck himself and walked out of the bar with his middle finger held high. But he was rooted to the seat and not just because of the shock of Sin’s words. Ja’far found that, for the first time in his life, he _wanted_ someone. Wanted someone in the most physical, intimate way—that he had for a while now—and that realization made him gape stupidly like a fish. 

Sin on the other hand looked terrified. The corner of his bottom lip was in between his teeth, worrying the skin back and forth as he gazed at Ja’far with apprehensive eyes. 

Sinbad wanted so badly not to fuck this up, but feared he had. He couldn’t lose Ja’far. But he also couldn’t allow himself to sit back apathetically and wonder for years what could have been if only he’d _said_ something. 

In the end, Sin threw caution to the wind.  

“I want you _so fucking much_ Ja’far and not just because of the sex.” Sin clarified his eyes sincere. Sin took hold of Ja’far’s hand, his thumb tenderly caressing over his knuckles and Ja’far shivered at Sinbad’s blatant warmth, found himself oddly craving more of it.   

“Let me show you how good it can be. I can make it _so_ good—let me show you baby, please.” 

Ja’far heated at the pet name and surprised not only himself when after a pause he whispered, “Okay.”

… 

In the end, Sin’s apartment was closest to the bar.  

Ja’far had already once been to Sin’s house. Had sat on his sofa, had washed his hands in his sink, had eaten a delicious meal at his table, but now Ja’far was entering Sinbad’s house as something… _different_ , and yet it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.

They walked hand-in-hand, their fingers loosely intertwined as they strolled at their own leisure pace taking in the cities sights. 

Ja’far glared up half-heartedly at Sin each time the taller man decided to swing their arms back and forth. Each time a shit eating grin would spread over his smug face and he would reply back smoothly _yes, yes I know. Sorry I forgot._

The elevator ride up was tense and quiet as Sinbad squeezed Ja’far’s hand in reassurance. His heart had started to pick up the closer they got to Sin’s apartment.

“I won’t get mad or upset if you change your mind, you know.” Sinbad smiled down at him, his eyes incredibly bright with fondness for _him_. “I would be just as happy with watching a movie with you cuddled deep in my arms.” 

Ja’far, in that instant marveled at how such a warm, kind, and courteous man could possibly exist. How such a man could exist and be interested in _him_ of all people baffled and fascinated Ja’far. 

He wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, wanted to look back at the last few months and pin point the exact moment when he realized Sinbad was different. Instead—in a move that was so uncharacteristic of himself—Ja’far raised up on his tippy toes, cradling Sin’s cheek in his palm more softly than anything he had ever cradled before and kissed the man on the lips.

Sinbad was a whisper of movement. Ja’far felt his lips tremble ever so slightly against his own before he slowly drew back, savoring the strange, electric sensation that traveled up and down his spine.

Ja’far’s gaze was determined as he watched Sin’s shocked expression through his lashes.

“I’m not going to change my mind Sin.”

Sin nodded dumbly, caressing the ghost of where Ja’far’s lips had been with a slow swipe of his tongue and Ja’far flushed hotly.

“Thank god.”

…

Sin asked him one more time if he was sure as they settled in his apartment. They both stood in the middle of Sin’s living room, jackets and coats thrown over the back of the sofa and their shoes were side by side next to the door.

Sin looked loose and relaxed as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He walked into the kitchen, his eyes never quite leaving Ja’far as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and drank a couple of sips from it.

Ja’far watched the seemingly normal action—any other time he wouldn’t have taken a second glance—but Ja’far was noticing for the first time how _sensuous_ Sinbad simply was. Every move he exhibited was deliberate and sensual, his eyes were coy, and his body language was open and inviting.

 _Was he always like that? Was I just not paying attention?_ Ja’far thought, intimately aware that Sin was looking at him with glittering, mirthful eyes.

Sinbad set the water bottle down, moving back into the living room and standing only feet away from Ja’far. He coolly put his hands into his pockets and rocked back gently on his heels, his head tilting just _so_. Sin smiled, probably knowing how charming and handsome he looked when he did it.

“What are you thinking about Ja’far?” Sinbad’s voice was low and honey thick and Ja’far swallowed.

“You.” Ja’far breathed, even though Sinbad already knew. It was impossible not to think of him, not when Sin was stepping closer, not when all Ja’far could smell was the spicy aroma of cinnamon mixed with the floral scent of jasmine, not when Sin touched him, dragging the very tips of his fingers over his shoulders, tracing over his shoulder blades, down the sensitive skin of his arms…

Sinbad was unfair, Ja’far was learning.

“Thinking about me doing what?” It was hard to concentrate when Sinbad talked like _that_ and touched him like _that_ , running those fingers back up his arms and then back down again. It was maddening. 

Ja’far exhaled shakily, closing his eyes as shivers racked his body. 

“Touching me.”

He didn’t have to see the reaction his words caused Sinbad. The slight pause in his movements, how his breath hitched before a deep, throaty hum vibrated through the air, and Sinbad moved closer still. His body was hot—so hot that the inside of Ja’far’s sweater was becoming unbearable. It felt uncomfortable on his skin, itchy and tight, and Ja’far was suddenly restless to have it off. 

“Sin…”

“Where do I touch you?” It startled Ja’far how _starved_ Sin sounded, how utterly sinful and devious the question was, how it managed to turn Ja’far on like nothing else. 

Something in him broke. The person that whined high in his throat at the question seemed unrecognizable. No one had ever made him feel this way—feverish and wanting—wanting something he had never desired before until now. Ja’far wanted to ask just what exactly Sinbad was, to make him feel this way, but his lips were caught in a flurry of kisses the next moment.

Sinbad was masterful with his mouth, so much that Ja’far felt embarrassed for his lack of experience, only having kissed two people before and they were hardly like _this_. Urgent, messy, and passionate.

Broad, calloused hand encircled Ja’far’s slender waist, bringing him into the cavity of Sinbad’s chest as they walked back towards Sin’s room.

Sinbad kissed him a couple more times, savoring the feel and taste of him before they parted. Ja’far watched, enraptured, as a translucent string connected their mouths before the separation cut it in half. Ja’far stared blindly in a daze before he finally blinked and looked up at Sin, his eyes lidded and watery.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sinbad cradled both of Ja’far’s cheeks, concern etching over his handsome features.

Ja’far gaped. “No I—you just make me feel so good.”

Sinbad slowly nodded, looking still for any kind of uncertainty and smiled easily when he found none. 

“Good. I want to make you feel amazing,” He said softly, and then in more of Sinbad’s style and confidence added, “I _will_ make you feel amazing. So amazing you’re never going to want to let me go.”

Ja’far shivered at the promise, knowing Sin would keep it.


End file.
